Whatever alkhemy Seb used to convince Mark to go to an art gallery had worked, and they were now looking at a painting of a dog looking mournfully at a kite.
This is it, he thought. This is where our friendship expands beyond simple pub philosophizing and enters the realm of true adult conversation.
“So,” he said, confidently, “Do you ever think about death?”
“What? No!” barked Mark. “That’s just… that’s dire. It’s like thinking about your parents.” A pause. “Or limescale.”
“It’s off-putting. I can’t ponder the finer points of human mortality during sex.”
“I never mentioned sex!” whispered Seb in the manner of one who would rather yell. “Sex was not part of the discussion!”
“Well I assumed,” said Mark. “I mean, sex is really the only time I do any proper thinking.”
“Is that why you always get me to do your taxes?”
“I did try to do it myself once, but I just don’t have that sort of stamina.”
“I… no. Let’s not go there.”
Seb suddenly knew exactly how the dog felt.